Chapter 130

In front of the Shaolin Temple gate, the atmosphere was heavy.

When Yu Liancheng mentioned the library thefts, he became the prime suspect, because the only ones who knew about this were the seven masters of the "Xin" generation and Baixiaosheng.

But unfortunately, Yu Liancheng did not have enough evidence to clear his name.

At this time, except for Monk Xinmei, whose martial arts had been crippled, the other high monks of the "Xin" generation and Baixiaosheng gradually approached Yu Liancheng, forming a circle. These people were all experts of the current age, and it was only because they were people outside the secular world that they were not ranked on the Weapon Manual.

But there was no doubt that if they joined forces, even the top three experts on the Weapon Manual might not be able to fight them.

Of course, the reason they did not form the One Hundred and Eight Arhat Array was that Xinhu saw that this young man's martial arts were extraordinary; if they used the Arhat Array, Shaolin disciples would inevitably suffer casualties.

Furthermore, with these few of them taking action, it was more than enough.

Yu Liancheng stood with his hands behind his back, his expression unchanged: "Actually, you all understand that this matter could only have been done by the seven high monks of your 'Xin' generation, because even if others could sneak into the library, they would certainly leave clues and evidence."

"Hmph, you still want to sow discord between us brothers? Die!" Monk Xinjian suddenly shouted, his body leaping out like a large bird, and a palm struck through the air. This palm was swift and fierce, like a Vajra splitting a mountain, with the rolling sound of thunder, possessing the power to shatter rocks.

Xinhu, Xinjian, and Xindeng looked at each other and attacked at the same time.

Yu Liancheng already had the suspicion of being the Plum Blossom Thief, had crippled Xinmei's martial arts, and now was even more likely to be the one who stole the books.

No matter what, they had to capture him first.

Xinhu stepped out, his fist striking like thunder, and the surging, peerless force enveloped Yu Liancheng.

Xinjian let out a sudden breath, his tongue fighting the spring thunder, and a palm struck out, conjuring thousands of palm shadows.

Xindeng's fingers moved in a circle, like a blooming lotus, flicking away ancient bronze prayer beads one by one.

In an instant, the four high monks of the "Xin" generation of Shaolin attacked simultaneously, determined to capture Yu Liancheng at the first opportunity.

Although Baixiaosheng did not take action, he was also ready to strike, his sharp eyes staring straight at Yu Liancheng's shifting figure. As long as he showed a flaw while fighting the four high monks, Baixiaosheng would immediately deliver a thunderous blow.

Bang bang bang bang!

Yu Liancheng's figure was agile, ethereal as an immortal, often able to dodge attacks at the last moment. At the same time, his fists swept out like thunder, each strike possessing the power to split steles and shatter rocks, constantly clashing with the four experts.

The four great high monks joined forces, but not only did they not gain the slightest advantage, they instead felt a surge of blood and their meridians swelling, as if their arms were about to be shattered.

Only at this moment did they understand that this young man, known as the "Six Extremes Mad Guest," was able to cripple Xinmei's martial arts not by relying on conspiracies and tricks, but by genuine, solid skill.

"You... you quickly stop..." Xinmei stamped his feet in anxiety, but unfortunately, his profound internal energy had all flowed away like water; even if he wanted to stop them, he had the heart but not the strength.

The Shaolin disciples watched, dumbfounded. The Abbot and the three heads of the halls joined forces, yet they couldn't capture this young man who looked at most twenty years old.

"Good, worthy of being Shaolin high monks, you really have some skill. Why not try the precious sword in my hand." Even now, Yu Liancheng was still so composed.

He struck out with both palms, the palm force like a river pouring backward, whipping up gusts of wind. The floor was swept by the palm wind as if a hurricane had passed, hitting the four high monks with a crackling sound.

And at this instant, his hand was already pressed on the hilt of his sword.

Only a "clang" was heard, and the Duoqing Sword flashed out of its sheath like lightning, like a startled swan. Even in broad daylight, it bloomed with unimaginable brilliance, and reflecting off the surrounding snow, it was even more soul-stirring.

The person followed the sword, and the sword light and the person seemed to merge into one.

Monk Xinjian's face showed fear, and fear had crawled all over his face.

Because he had discovered that this sword was thrusting toward him.

Under this sword, his pride and arrogance in his martial arts attainments seemed like snow under the scorching sun, melting and disappearing layer by layer.

He had no way to dodge.

Nor did he have any way to block.

There was only death.

Everyone only saw a flash of cold light and heard a "click" sound. The sword had already pierced Monk Xinjian's throat, fresh blood surged out, his breathing stopped, and even his eyeballs almost completely bulged out.

The sword was pulled out, and fresh blood sprayed wildly.

Xinjian fell down, falling down with unwillingness and despair.

"Junior Brother!"

"Seventh Junior Brother!"

Xinhu and the others were heartbroken.

They were all Shaolin high monks, and their temperament and self-cultivation were originally quite good.

But now that their own junior brother had been killed at their doorstep, they could no longer remain calm no matter what.

Xinhu and the other three high monks attacked again, showing the Wrathful Wisdom King aspect, each displaying their ultimate skills, filled with killing intent.

One could see palm winds and fist forces like angry waves, like wild winds, like volcanic eruptions, bombarding Yu Liancheng, continuous and unending, yet filled with terrifying killing intent.

"Three masters, let me help you."

Baixiaosheng finally moved.

Because he knew he could not wait any longer.

Otherwise, if the three masters were defeated, his own life would be hard to preserve.

One could see Baixiaosheng's sleeves like a clear breeze brushing the clouds, his palms like thunderbolts.

This person could judge the experts of the world, so his own strength was naturally not bad.

If it weren't for this, those martial artists who were dissatisfied with the Weapon Manual rankings would have long ago torn him into pieces.

During the previous exchange, the three Shaolin masters had still held back, attempting to capture Yu Liancheng and ask for a clear explanation.

But now they were using lethal means, pushing their internal energy to the limit, so the power was naturally not to be spoken of in the same breath.

Added to that was Baixiaosheng, who had stayed in Shaolin Temple for a long time and had also learned Buddhist martial arts. His moves were completely integrated into those of the three masters, without the slightest abruptness, making this combined attack even more like a tiger with wings, becoming an unrivaled lethal move.

Yu Liancheng's gaze turned cold, and the long sword in his palm struck out. The sword moves were extremely beautiful, filled with an indescribable aesthetic, making one feel relaxed and happy, calming the killing intent.

And the next moment, the sword light changed again, and an overwhelming, heavy sword intent permeated every inch of space within a radius of ten zhang. As this sword struck out, it was as if a mountain had risen from the ground, and as if an ancient city had descended from the sky, traversing the firmament, possessing the terrifying power to suppress everything.

Boom!

In an instant, the sword light collided with the force of the four experts, the roaring sound was continuous, and the leaked force vented in all directions.

After a moment of stagnation, the heavy sword light, like a mountain and city, shattered the combined force. The remaining force scattered, and the four experts turned pale, falling back one after another.

The surrounding Shaolin disciples' eyeballs were about to pop out; the combined strike of the four experts couldn't even withstand a single sword strike from this young man in black.

The sword light advanced again, and Baixiaosheng only felt his throat locked by a cold aura, panic appearing on his face, and he hurriedly shouted, "Don't, I..."

Before he could finish speaking.

The sword had already pierced out.

Fresh blood splashed, and under the sunlight, it looked like a string of agate bamboo curtains, so bright red, so lovely.

PS: Ten chapters completed, requesting subscriptions, requesting monthly tickets. There are two Chapter 27s.